


if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones

by orphan_account



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Multi, Teen Angst, brief blue/adam, similar to the hp storyline, sleeping villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts is threatened. Sleepers are awakening. Sacrifices are required.</p><p>The story of four years in the life of four Hogwarts students, as the world changes and their lifestyle becomes interlinked in war. And there is only one way to save the wizarding world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. potions master

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a Hogwarts AU. The plots of Harry Potter and the Raven Cycle have been combined in a way. Some plot points will be from Harry Potter, and some will be from TRC. 
> 
> Also, the inevitable disclaimer: I own no claim to Harry Potter or The Raven Cycle. The title is from Youth by Daughter.

Most people said that the summer term was the easiest time to get distracted. Blue Sargent would argue that it was easy to get distracted all year round. The only exception, of course, was when she was sitting in a dark dingy dungeon waiting for potion-brewing instructions to be written on the board. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to sleep. _I’m so dropping this next year._ The dungeon was lit only by candles, smelled of dampness and must, and by the end of the lesson was covered in failed potions that may or may not be corrosive. It was Blue’s least favourite place in the school.

Still, Halloween may be the only day of the year where Blue even _considered_ falling asleep in the potions dungeon. It was already difficult enough to focus on anything that didn’t involve eating Chocolate Frogs at the Sargent family home, but even harder when it was Professor Pinter droning on about the side effects of some euphoria potion that they were probably going to brew. The idea of dozing off became even more enticing when the three boys behind her started having an argument about entering the Triwizard Tournament underage. _Ugh._

Blue turned around. “I don’t care what you’re planning to do, but can you shut the fuck up and discuss it sometime else?” she snapped. The boys blinked, and Blue didn’t break her cold stare. One of the boys sat somewhat slouched with frayed robes in Slytherin colours. Another was a Hufflepuff with a buzzcut (was that what they were called?) and an even colder stare that didn’t seem particularly Hufflepuff. The third sat with a perfect posture that suggested that he’d never been poor, boldly blazing Ravenclaw colours and gaping at her as if she’d committed some international crime.

 _Rich boys,_ she thought, turning around and rolling her eyes. _They think everyone who doesn’t like them is a criminal._

Suddenly, there was a voice. “Miss Sargent?” Professor Pinter stood at the front of the class, staring at her. “Are you paying attention?” In her head, Blue marvelled at the fact that he hadn’t already noticed, but she didn’t show her internal laughter on her face.

“Of course I am, professor,” she answered, but Blue lacked the smoothness to pull off a lie that some other people had. She wasn’t calm in a way that immediately made you believe her, and she didn’t have a look that made you think that there was no way this nice girl would tell a lie. When people saw Blue, they saw five feet of trouble and sarcastic remarks; which, in all honestly, was exactly what Blue hoped that they would see.

To her surprise, Pinter believed her, and continued talking. Blue rolled her eyes and sat up straight, trying to blur out the persistent conversation of the boys behind her (though she had to appreciate that they were now whispering instead of talking as loud as they could get away with). “The Elixir to Induce Euphoria _is_ a N. E. W. T. level potion, but I doubt that any of you will have any trouble with it.” Collective groans ran through the class, and Blue wondered when teachers would figure out that students didn’t like work that was well above their age range.

Pinter continued talking, oblivious to the annoyance of the class; or, if he noticed it, he was doing a very good job of ignoring it. “This is, however, above your age range, so you will be allowed to brew this in pairs. And _no_ , Gansey, you can’t brew in threes.” Heads in the classroom turned to the Ravenclaw behind Blue, who lowered his hand and gave the two boys flanking him a deflated look.

“I will be selecting the pairs –” Immediately, the class began whining again, rolling their eyes at their friends and glaring at Pinter as if he had just ruined their chances of getting their dream job. Once again, Pinter didn’t seem to notice. The teachers insisted that selection of pairs was ‘ _completely random_ ’, but it couldn’t be random that everyone seemed to end up paired off with their mortal enemy.

“Parrish and Palmer.” The boy in the frayed robe sighed and went to sit beside Cialina, Blue’s fellow waitress at the Three Broomsticks. She didn’t seem too bothered by it. Blue had a feeling she knew why.

“Lynch and Kavinsky.” Blue let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding when the glaring Hufflepuff from behind her went over to _Kavinsky._ To say that Blue couldn’t stand her fellow Gryffindor would be an understatement. She’d been paired with him once in Transfiguration and it would be a hundred percent accurate to say that he was the single most arrogant person she had ever had the misfortune to work with.

“Sargent and Gansey.” Blue blinked and turned around to face the Ravenclaw. _Him?_ Knowing her luck, Blue was pretty sure that she had just been paired with the only person in the room _more arrogant_ than Joseph Kavinsky. Everything, from his immaculate tie to his straight back to his neat hair suggested that he’d never had a worry in his life. She rolled her eyes, picked up her stuff, and moved to the desk behind her.

The people around her started chopping up their ingredients, and the boy reached forward to start doing the same. “Do you have a Shrivelfig?” he asked pleasantly. He even _sounded_ like a rich boy.

Blue rolled her eyes. “There’s a Shrivelfig right here.” If it was possible, she had found someone who was both more arrogant than Kavinsky and worse at Potions than Blue. She hadn’t realised that such a person existed, and she despised him already.

The boy – _Gansey,_ what a ridiculous surname – put the Shrivelfig into the potion and followed it up with porcupine quills. He seemed altogether too intent to be real; surely there was nobody in the world who cared that much about Potions? Especially not with Pinter, whose droning voice could cure insomnia, teaching it. He was definitely faking it – which just made Blue dislike him even more.

“How many times do we need to stir?” he asked, squinting at the blackboard. Blue blinked for a second and let down her ‘I couldn’t give less of a shit about you’ expression. It was as clear as snow on grass to her, but apparently the boy couldn’t read.

“Four times, anti-clockwise,” she reported with an obligatory eye roll. “You know, for someone as rich as you, it’s a surprise you haven’t invested in contact lenses or something.” Maybe it was rude and hostile, but Blue had never been anything that wasn’t rude and hostile. Especially not around arrogant snobs. She wasn’t interested in being friends with him.

As he stirred the potion, Blue shot a glance to Cialina at the back. They weren’t friends, but it wasn’t uncommon for them to shoot glances of _oh my god_ during particularly boring lessons. However, Cialina didn’t look bored but was instead having an argument with the boy she had been paired with, who was holding peppermint sprigs and looking like he was trying to justify himself. Gansey followed her gaze and gave an absent-minded shrug as he tried to cut open a Sopophorous bean. “Adam and his additions.”

It took Blue a minute to register what he said. “ _Additions?_ So if it goes wrong, my friend could end up in detention because your friend turned their potion into tar?” Though Blue was in no way a conformist, she’d never understood changing potions recipes; what if it went wrong and exploded in your face and landed you in the Janus Thickney Ward at St. Mungo’s? It wasn’t a risk that the rather sensible Blue was eager to take.

“I’ve been friends with Adam for years, and not once has one of his experiments gone wrong,” Gansey defended. “He’s a natural at Potions. And everything else, of course, but especially Potions.” Blue wondered if Gansey was in love with him. Either that, or he was a very, very good friend. Maybe both.

Eventually, her partner had managed to get some juice out of the Sopophorous bean, though not much. It was supposed to be green by now, but it still looked a little bit too blue. “He thinks you’re cute,” Gansey added as he and Blue started to take the individual leaves off the wormwood plant. Blue blinked. “He wants to talk to you, but he doesn’t have the nerve.”

She tried to focus on adding the precise amount of wormwood, but it was hard to not constantly turn around and look at Adam. He looked as if he was finished, and had a slightly quizzical expression on his face. Though Blue loathed admitting it, especially not to _Gansey_ – he wasn’t bad looking.

Professor Pinter wandered the class, looking into people’s potions, handing out detentions where necessary. Gansey mouthed something to his friend with the buzzcut, who had just been handed a detention. Blue rolled her eyes and watched Pinter as he approached a shining Adam and a sulking Cialina. “This potion – it’s perfect! What did you add, Mr. Parrish?” Cialina looked up and stared at him as Adam began going on about peppermint.

Gansey chuckled. “Told you.” Blue rolled her eyes and turned to the approaching Pinter. The potion wasn’t yellow. It didn’t look like the bubbling cauldron at the front of the class. Pinter pursed his lips and, with no comment, walked to the front of the room.

As Blue bundled up her things, Gansey touched her arm. She immediately recoiled. “What do you want?”

“Maybe…well, maybe you could, I don’t know, go out with him tonight? Before curfew, of course, but…I mean, to Hogsmeade or something.” For the first time, Gansey seemed to fumble, though Blue had a feeling it was faked to make Blue warm to him a little.

“I can’t. I have a shift at the Three Broomsticks. I can’t take off, Halloween is the busiest night of the yea –”

“I’ll pay you.”

Blue stared at him. Did he just tell her that he would pay her for hanging out with Adam?

“What?”

“How much do you get paid? I’ll pay you it back.”

 _Is he for real?_ Surely, surely he was messing with her. There was no way that even the most arrogant of arrogant people would believe that people got _paid_ to hang out with people. She realised that she’d been standing in the doorway for a minute staring at Gansey, and couldn’t help but notice his friends (if that was what they were) standing behind him. Adam looked annoyed, in an _oh god what are you doing_ way, and the other one had a dark smirk on his face.

Finally, Blue broke the silence. “I am not a _prostitute_!” She only just caught Adam’s annoyed sigh before she turned and walked out of the dungeon.


	2. an appointment is made

Ronan Lynch had made up his mind: he hated Durmstrang students. They’d been in the castle for a week now, and every one of them had failed to give a good impression to the judgmental Ronan. They walked around like they owned the place, throwing their muscle around and looking surly. Ronan didn’t care about Hogwarts most of the time, but he damn well hoped that they’d win the Triwizard Tournament if only to piss off the smug bastards.

The Hogwarts champion, Tad Carruthers, was a tall sixth-year Gryffindor who Ronan typically despised. He was broad and blonde and had a smile that made Ronan want to punch him in the face for no particular reason, mainly due to something he wasn’t ready to admit. Despite Ronan’s dislike for him, he was vastly preferable to the other two candidates.

From Durmstrang was Aleksander Prokopenko; a gaunt, hollow-cheeked boy with dark hair and even darker eyes. Nobody, by the sound of it, had ever heard him speak. The articles from reporters never mentioned him saying anything. Ronan wasn’t sure if he wasn’t able to speak or if he was just too stupid to string a sentence together. By the look of him, both could be accurate.

Finally, there was Joséphine Swan, a ridiculously tall girl who looked like she would like nothing more than to slit everyone’s throat. (It was, when Ronan came to think of it, a fail-safe method of winning the tournament.) From first glance, Ronan had both disliked her and been slightly intimidated by her. He felt like she was the only one who had a chance if the tournament became cut-throat.

As he walked to class, he passed Kavinsky leaning against a wall. It didn’t look like he was particularly interested in going to class. Ronan couldn’t blame him. He was joined by a larger group of “friends” than he had possessed the last time he and Ronan had run into each other. There was Skov and Jiang, as usual, but he was also joined by Swan and Prokopenko.

“Fraternising with the enemy, Kavinsky?” he asked with a scowl.

“Well, I’m not going to get friendly with Carruthers, am I?” he replied. Skov laughed obligingly. Ronan rolled his eyes and walked away, so as to not be late for Ancient Runes. Not that he cared, but he’d get chewed out by Gansey and he was not in the mood for an argument with Gansey today. Kavinsky? Yes. But Gansey? No.

He slipped into his seat just before the bell went off, and was met with a disapproving look from Gansey. “Where were you?” he asked quietly, avoiding Whelk’s watching eye.

“Not fucking up Kavinsky’s face,” Ronan answered. This seemed to calm Gansey down a little; just a little. “Did I miss anything?”

Gansey shook his head. “Whelk said something in some language that I didn’t understand. Some Nordic language, I think. He was saying that the runes are from the Vikings.”

Ronan leaned back in his chair, and Gansey shot him a glance. “Don’t do that. You’ll break your back.”

“Shut up, Mum,” Ronan answered sarcastically. Gansey rolled his eyes and pretended to be paying attention, although both Ronan and the silent Adam on the other side of him knew that Gansey rarely paid attention in Runes.

Forty minutes later, three boys left Ancient Runes having learned absolutely nothing new; Adam because he already knew it, Ronan because he didn’t care, and Gansey because he had no idea what Whelk was talking about.

As they walked down the hallway, the trio passed Miss ‘Not a Prostitute’ from Potions. Gansey opened his mouth as if to say something, as he’d done so every time they’d passed the girl since their disastrous conversation the week before. She rolled her eyes and walked even faster to avoid them. Adam looked upset. Ronan wasn’t sure why he was bothered by it.

“Sorry,” Gansey said to Adam for the hundredth time that week. “For ruining your chances with her.”

“Seemed horrible anyway,” Ronan interjected. Gansey and Adam both shot him identical glares. “What? I can’t lie.”

“It might do you some good to know when to not say anything,” Adam mumbled under his breath, barely loud enough to be audible. Ronan rolled his eyes and decided that this was a good time to not say anything.

Gansey shrugged. “So anyway. What should we do?”

Adam and Ronan both stopped to stare at him in confusion. “About what?” Ronan asked cuttingly before Adam could say anything. 

Gansey rolled his eyes. “About Glendower. About the lines. What are we going to do next?”

They were silent, standing in the middle of the corridor, which earned them some glares from people passing. Adam spoke. “There’s a business of psychics – sorry, Seers – and energy workers in Hogsmeade. We should check it out during the weekend,” he suggested. Adam had been at Hogwarts for five years and he still occasionally slipped up, using Muggle terms for magical things. “I’ll have to book an appointment by owl, but it’s doable.”

Gansey nodded. Ronan, on the other hand, was less eager. He didn’t believe in fortune-telling. He didn’t want to see the future. But he shrugged anyway. “Whatever. Do what you want.?

It was obvious to everyone listening that Ronan wasn’t interested, even the somewhat more oblivious Gansey. But he still nodded. “Saturday sound good? Saturday it is.”

Ronan wasn't excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is literally just filler. Gah. But anyway, Adam has a point of view next chapter and that's where stuff really starts happening; and we finally meet Noah, which is a plus.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. unexpected meetings and erratic conversations

Adam Parrish had three things on his mind. The first was the Arithmancy essay that he had due in on Monday, the one that he hadn’t even started. _I can get it done after we get back from Hogsmeade_. The second was whether Noah was doing okay; he hadn’t seen the older boy for some time, and it was somewhat worrying. _Of course he’ll be fine_. And the third was whether he’d ever get the chance to have a proper conversation with the girl from Potions. _Do I even want to?_

As he walked down the grand staircase, intending to meet Gansey and Ronan at the gates, he nearly bumped into someone. He was slightly surprised to see the girl – what was her name? – standing there. “Sorry,” he said apologetically, the tips of his ears going slightly red.

The girl looked a little taken aback. “It’s okay,” she said. There was a pause, and then she added, “You’re Adam, right?”

Adam nodded. “And you’re…” He trailed off, not wanting to admit that he didn’t know her name. 

The girl laughed a little nervously, and answered, “Blue. Sargent. Are you going down to Hogsmeade as well?” It was a simple question, and Adam wasn’t sure why the answer worried him. 

“Yeah. Uhm, Blue, I just wanted to say…I didn’t ask Gansey to say that. But…I did want to talk to you. So…we should meet up sometime, I guess, or something.” He’d gone a slightly alarming shade of red. Blue didn’t seem to notice – she was a similar colour.

“That sounds…good,” she said, and with a small smile turned and disappeared out of the castle door, leaving Adam confused behind her. He shrugged and walked down the castle steps, and found Gansey outside Noah’s hut.

Noah Czerny was the only Squib on Hogwarts grounds, but he was just as good as anyone else here. If not, better. He was quiet and smudgy and most people overlooked him, not noticing him lurking around the grounds or wandering the halls. If they did, they thought he was just another student; he typically wore a worn robe with Gryffindor colours and he didn’t look much older than Adam. (None of them had ever asked why Noah wore a school robe, considering that he’d never attended Hogwarts.)

He was standing by his hut as Gansey eagerly talked about something that most likely involved Glendower. It was easy to tell when Gansey was enthusiastic about something – he hid sadness and anger so well that even Adam could barely recognize them, but enthusiasm and happiness was noticeable to people who didn’t even know him. There was always a lot of erratic hand gestures and wild movements; lots of people found it very difficult to keep up with this passionate, enthusiastic Gansey.

Ronan stood a little apart from the other two, glaring at everyone who dared to come within a five-meter radius of him. He’d probably fought with someone again, Adam thought – it was the most likely possibility. By the look on his face, Adam guessed that it had probably been Declan. He didn’t know much about the situation between the Lynch brothers outside of what Gansey had let slip, but he was smart enough to know that they didn’t have the best relationship. Both Adam and Gansey were worried about the day that Ronan – ticking time bomb Ronan – would finally explode. Neither of them knew how they would handle it when – not _if_ , when – he did.

“Are we going, then?” Adam asked as Gansey finished rhapsodizing to Noah.

Gansey nodded. “Sure. Noah, are you sure you’re not interested in being there?”

Noah shook his head. “I’ve been there before and it didn’t really go too well.” None of them asked for details, partly because they didn’t want to intrude and partly because Noah’s face implied that he didn’t even want to remember it. None of them had ever asked about Noah’s life before he became the Hogwarts caretaker. None of them knew why Noah constantly avoided the Defence Against the Dark Arts department. None of them even considered opening the subject.

Gansey strode off towards the gate, and was followed by Adam and Ronan. They made an interesting trio – Gansey, confident and straight-backed; Ronan, surly and dangerous-looking; and Adam shuffling at the back, without the confidence of someone who had never had to worry about anything. Gansey and Ronan were both born into big, powerful families, and they both had massive Gringotts vaults filled with their trust funds. Adam wouldn’t have been able to go to Hogwarts had it not been for the money they put aside for every student. The other two knew that they were important, and Adam still didn’t know if he was or wasn’t.

As it turned out, the psychic’s house was that house near the station that looked like more and more floors had been built on randomly as they ran out of space. Gansey peered up at it worriedly, as if he was afraid that it would crack and hit him in the head. Then he shook his head as if to say _I’m being an idiot_ and strode up to the front door, knocking lightly on it.

“You’re going to have to knock harder than that,” Ronan said, pushing Gansey aside and hammering on the door to demonstrate. Both Adam and Gansey rolled their eyes.

“You know that’s just gonna make the psychic think that you’re some arrogant ass, right?” Gansey said. Adam muttered something about _they wouldn’t be wrong there_ , and Ronan shrugged uncaringly.

The door swung open and Gansey was just about to stride in – what was it with Gansey and striding? – when he realized who had opened the door. And for a minute, they stood in silence, the trio outside the door and _Blue_ inside. Adam gaped. Gansey stared. Ronan pretended that he was bored.

Suddenly a woman rushed into the room. “Aren’t you going to invite the clients in?” she asked.

Though she looked like it physically pained her, Blue sighed. “Come in then. What are you waiting for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY IS ADAM SO HARD TO WRITE I S2G 
> 
> Gansey is next, hallelujah!


End file.
